


Must Love Crepes

by paynesgrey



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Community: fan_flashworks, Fluff, Food Kink, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Canon, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 17:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19299967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paynesgrey/pseuds/paynesgrey
Summary: “You’ve got quite a setup here. I didn’t expect to be wined and dined for a lunch date. A little warning would have been nice, angel...”





	Must Love Crepes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "deal" prompt as well as the "any prompt" square for my bingo card for fan_flashworks on Dreamwidth.  
> First jump into this fandom. Also, thoroughly besotted by these two knuckleheads.

Aziraphale wiggled his fingers and bustled around his bookshop. He took in the lovely scent of fresh, warm food, which was teleported just moments ago from a restaurant called _Crepe Crazy_ in Texas of America. His human body’s stomach growled at the delectable scents filling up his dusty bookstore, and he tempered his excitement with patience as he waited to eat. With a friend, of course.

He looked down at the set table, a single white tulip swimming in a vase in the center, and the plates on either side, crisp white and sparkling. The napkins, cutlery and glasses were all situated just so, that he spent idle seconds tweaking things more symmetrical, more straight or wiping off an errant dust mote that dared sully his pristine dining table experience.

When he was satisfied enough with the picturesque arrangement, he turned to a bottle of red from the south of France, wiped off the dust gently with a damp cloth, and the bottle opener filled his pocket, ready for use. 

For a few seconds he waited, but he straightened his back and listened through the dense quiet of his bookshop as a car roared outside, a growl from hell signaling an important arrival.

Aziraphale tittered happily and couldn’t restrain his grin as his oldest friend Crowley had come through the door, sauntering into the place with familiarity (like a second home, or first, one could argue) and peered through his dark glasses as Aziraphale jumped from his seat, the bottle of red wine still gripped in his hand, and his excitement barely contained in that borrowed body of his.

“Ah, finally, you’re here, my dear!” he said, and Crowley was instantly amused by the angel’s excitement, even more so for Aziraphale’s joy in seeing him in particular.

“What’s got you all bouncy?” Crowley said, but he already knew the answer to that. “Er… if I’d have to guess it is…”

“Crepes!” Aziraphale all but shouted.

“...food, right,” Crowley said, masking his continued amusement with a frown.

Crowley took off his sunglasses, and he could feel his friend’s eyes on him, watching the movement of his gaze. “You’ve got quite a setup here. I didn’t expect to be wined and dined for a lunch date. A little warning would have been nice, angel,” he said cheekily. Aziraphale rolled his eyes, but the smile remained a constant bright light. Crowley wondered if he should put the glasses back on. 

Aziraphale waved a hand. “Now, stop that nonsense. This is _important_ ,” the angel enunciated, and a single eyebrow rose above Crowley’s yellow snake eyes.

“Hrmph,” the demon said simply, bending over to peer at the crepes artistically painted onto the round white plates. “Right, these aren’t local, are they?”

“Darn tootin’, cowboy,” he said, trying to mimic an American accent and doing a poor job of it. Crowley couldn’t hold back the cringe and guffaw. “This comes all the way from Texas in America. A divine little place called _Crepe Crazy_! Ha! It was voted the best place in America that served crepes. So you might have imagined when I read about that, I was thoroughly tempted.”

“Live up to their reputation?” Crowley asked.

“We will see. I was waiting for you. I haven’t had a bite,” he said, though his tone sounded less and less patient.

“How virtuous of you to wait for me,” Crowley said with a snicker. He sat in his chair, set the napkin aside (and not on his lap), and picked up a fork and began tapping the end of it on the table like an almost-but-not-quite hungry man but getting there the more Aziraphale tittered around the table in his cloud of jubilation and anticipation.

“Well, of course I am,” Aziraphale said, and he popped the cork on the wine and gestured to Crowley, who gave him a quick nod. The angel poured prepared glasses, and the wine bottle settled nicely next to the tulip in the vase, side-by-side, looking like a wedding topper.

Aziraphale picked up his own fork, beamed at the food in front of him, and then gave Crowley a barely restrained look. “Ready?” 

Crowley glanced down at his food. 

“Yours is called the Norwegian. I figured you wouldn’t prefer any of the sweet ones, so yours is more savory with cream cheese and egg and capers…” Aziraphale told him.

The demon admitted to himself; it did look delicious. His old friend certainly knew him well.

“I opted for a more sweet one, of course. Dulce de leche Turtle, mmmph...” He took a bite and let out a salacious moan, even for an angel. “That. Is. Heavenly.”

Each little bite the angel took, he moaned more and more, and the noises were starting to grate on Crowley. He wasn’t annoyed, but it felt like someone was scratching an itch that he’d tried to ignore for thousands of years. He watched his friend, and Aziraphale gave him a pointed look and then to his food. Crowley took the expected bites, reacted as happy as he allowed himself, and that was enough for Aziraphale to know that Crowley was pleased with the angel’s choice for him.

Aziraphale went back into devouring his food, and Crowley let his thoughts wander as he continued with his meal. He thought of the last few months and all that they’d been through. Since the almost-Apocalypse, and the ruse they pulled on their superiors, they’d been left alone - and mostly left to each other, and they were spending even more time together as the days went on. Normally they’d sneak around, hide or have some excuse to their Arrangement if they needed to explain, but lately they just let loose, indulging in their friendship with hardly a care in the world.

Although, Crowley knew that Aziraphale was conscientious that their superiors would someday circle back and expect things from them, but for now they enjoyed each other’s company openly.

Crowley couldn’t get enough of their newfound freedom, and he reminded himself of that moment when he’d thought he’d lost Aziraphale, and the long instances he spent without the angel were worse than anything in Hell. No, being without Aziraphale was like being weighed down by a heavy dark nothingness inside a sticky amber where no one could hear him scream.

He never wanted to feel that again.

Turning his attention back to his joyous, bright friend, Crowley noticed that the angel had indulged a little too much into his beloved crepes, and though his friend was usually quite clean, he had somehow missed a spot of food on his upper lip. It looked like some kind of cream or frosting, and Crowley couldn’t help but focus on it as Aziraphale moaned like a tramp through his food.

“Oh, mmm, this is marvelous. Well, I’m sure to go back to that place of business again,” he said delighted. “Five stars!” He chuckled to himself and Crowley became so annoyed by the orphaned food, that he reached out through his friend’s blathering and wiped it off the upper lip with his thumb. Without thinking, he sucked on the thumb, enjoying the sweet flavor of vanilla and marshmallow.

“Hrmm,” Crowley said appreciatively, and noticed that his friend had stopped talking. His face had turned slightly pink. “What?” he said. Was it really a big deal that he touched him and sucked on the food that had once been on his friend’s lips? Well...judging by the way Aziraphale had frozen in his spot, maybe it was a bit forward.

“Sorry, just looked delicious. And you weren’t doing anything with it,” Crowley said. 

Aziraphale held up his fork which had another bite ready for consumption. Crowley noticed the fork trembled slightly in the angel’s grip. He watched his friend swallow uncomfortably, and then he started to sputter. “Well, yes, you could have just said...you, you know, wanted a bite. I would have gladly offered…”

Crowley was having none of this awkwardness; plus, it was kind of fun to see his oldest friend so flustered. He was getting enjoyment out of this game, whatever it was. He decided to take things further by rising slightly from his chair, bending over and taking the food on Aziraphale’s fork in one sensual bite, making sure that he had captured the angel’s surprised stare as well.

“Mmm,” he said, not taking his eyes off his friend, whose face only seemed to get redder.

Crowley scooped up a bit of his own crepe and held it out to him like a treat. “Fair is fair,” he said with a grin.

Aziraphale put a hand on his chest. He didn’t say anything, well nothing coherent, and just looked back at Crowley’s eyes as if asking for permission. _Are you sure? Are you completely sure about this? Because if you’re not sure..._

Crowley slowly began waving his fork. Aziraphale let out a small sigh of exasperation, maybe of anxiety too. He leaned over tentatively and took a bite from Crowley’s fork. He concentrated on the food, letting the taste wash over his tongue and mouth. 

Crowley’s mouth had been on that fork. In an indirect way, they had kissed. Crowley could almost see the wheels spinning in his friend’s mind. He smirked.

It’d been far too long of a wait. Six thousand years and he had to sneak around with this guy? This person who meant everything to him, angel or not. Now they didn’t have to sneak around. Now they were on their own side.

Crowley couldn’t wait anymore.

He watched as Aziraphale slowly chewed the bite of crepe he’d given him, and just his luck, his friend once again had food on his upper lip that he didn’t seem to notice.

“Ah yes, another excellent crepe. Such a good choice, don’t you think? It’s no surprise how well I know you after this long…” He chuckled lightly, but in a light-speed moment, Crowley was swallowing up the angel’s laughter. Leaning over the table, he made the wine and vase rattle as he slammed his hand down and invaded Aziraphale’s space by tracing his tongue over the angel to clean up the errant food. He smacked his lips together, taking the food into his mouth, but staying close to Aziraphale’s face. Locked in a stare, Crowley noticed the angel breathing heavily.

“You do know me,” he said. “And I know you, angel.”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale managed, and Crowley watched as the angel licked his lips - anticipating the next move.

“Am I going too fast for you?” he asked in a low whisper.

Aziraphale shook his head. “I’m starting to think it’s about time I catch up, my dear.” The angel surprised him when he leaned in, lightly pressing a kiss to the demon’s lips. It was sweet and full of sugar and heaven, and Crowley would expect nothing less from him.

But for the demon, there was a storm in his veins, a fire within his frame raging to come out, and curse or prayer yawning into a scream. He took Aziraphale’s lips into his with a fervor, letting the storm come out kiss by kiss, touch by touch, and he pulled his pliant friend against him, devouring his taste and hoping he’d be rewarded for so much more.

Aziraphale returned his passion, tracing his soft fingers down Crowley’s jaw, falling against the demon’s chest as he touched him. Crowley’s wily hands spread all over him, reaching and pulling, mapping him _everywhere_. 

When Crowley pulled at Aziraphale’s pants, the angel shied away, and Crowley had to calm himself for even he was afraid where this could lead. He didn’t let go at first, not wanting to lose the light and warmth of the angel in his arms, but he did respect his friend’s motion to stop and take a breath.

Aziraphale nuzzled his face against his friend’s neck, and Crowley could feel him smiling against the skin. “I’ve wanted...waited… it’s been too long.”

“Yeah, but I would have waited longer anyway,” Crowley said breathlessly, and reluctantly he pulled Aziraphale away from him to look into his eyes. “Because it’s you.” The demon hated admitting feelings, and he hated even more things like happiness and love.

But with Aziraphale, he made exceptions. 

His friend smoothed his clothes and fussed over himself to put everything back in its place. He sat down into his seat and watched Crowley as he slid back and settled back into his own chair. They stared at each other for an eternal moment, and finally Aziraphale knifed through the silence.

“Well, what’s next for us, then? Where do we go from here?” he asked, and then he took a long, improper chug of his wine.

Crowley shrugged, lazily playing with the remnants of his crepe on the plate. He tried to play it cool, but honestly he was a little frightened of what came next. Though things had changed for them recently, he decided that Aziraphale was more than worth all the risks he intended to take.

He stared at the angel, who looked at him expectantly. “I dunno, you tell me, angel." He began scratching the fork against the plate and met the angel’s curious eyes with a smoldering stare. “What’s next on the menu?”

Aziraphale swallowed visibly. He gave Crowley a nervous smile and then nodded as to give permission. Crowley dropped the fork with a screeching clatter and rose from his chair. Aziraphale jumped up, and Crowley caught him in his arms again.

This time and all times ahead, he would never let go.

 

END


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